


Bless the Broken Road

by fanwritergirl9496



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Friendship/Love, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Post-Hotch leaving, Post-Maeve, Red Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanwritergirl9496/pseuds/fanwritergirl9496
Summary: When Reid's childhood friend comes to him for help after witnessing a horrific murder, the BAU must walk the line between mercy and justice. Does the Unsub belong in prison or in a psychiatric hospital? Meanwhile, Reid considers rekindling a forgotten romance.





	1. Knock, Knock

Chapter 1: Knock, Knock

 

January 18th 2017: 1:27 AM Washington DC

 

Reid: _“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,_

_Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—_

_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,_

_As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._

_“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—_

_Only this and nothing more.”- Edgar Alan Poe_

Spencer Reid was sitting at his desk in his apartment, wearing sweatpants and his plain brown hoody, taking notes from a new psychology textbook he’d received from a friend of his on his last birthday. It was well after midnight; the apartment was lit only by his desk lamp. He should have been sleeping by then, but as usual, he couldn’t. Everything was quiet, peaceful, the only sound was the gentle scratch of a ballpoint pen on notebook paper. It was serene, almost meditative, sitting there in relative silence.

 

Reid’s hand was beginning to feel sore and tired, so he stopped for a moment. It was then that he dared to look over at the hardcover novel sitting off to the side next to his lamp. _The Narrative of John Smith_ was a book given to him by his girlfriend, Maeve. It was almost impossible to believe, but as he looked down at his watch, he saw that as of just over an hour and a half ago, it was four years to the day since the awful night when he’d witnessed Maeve’s murder right in front of him. Without warning, his mind was flooded with the awful memories of what had happened that night. No matter how hard he had tried to push those memories away, he could still see it, every sickening detail, as though it were only yesterday…  

 

_Just like that, Reid found himself back in that warehouse._

_Diane, there is still a way out of this. I offered you a deal and you can still take it. Me, for her, let me take her place!”_

_“You would do that?” Diane asked as she held a gun to Maeve’s head. Spencer wasn’t sure what was worse, the terror in Maeve’s eyes or the obvious effort she was making to conceal it for his sake._

_“Yes.” Reid answered._

_“You would kill yourself for her?” She asked again._

_Yes.” He replied._

_This time it was Maeve who spoke this time. “Thomas Merton…” she breathed, her voice was desperate, her message clear only to the man she loved._

_“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane asked, enraged by the fact that there was communication going on between Maeve and Spencer that she wasn’t party to._

_“He’s the one thing you can never take away from us!” Maeve responded._

_At Maeve’s words, Diane pushed Maeve’s head against her own and positioned the barrel of the gun so that it was up against her own ear. Next came the booming crash of a single gunshot. The next thing that had registered in Reid’s mind from that night, was both Diane and Maeve laying dead in a combined pool of blood, Diane having shot both herself and Maeve through the head._

Almost as quickly as it came the haunting memory ended, and Reid was jolted back into the present day, by a knock at his door.

 

 “What?” Reid wondered out loud. “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning, who could that be?”

 

He rose from his chair and walked over to the door. When he looked through the peephole, he was shocked to see not one of his teammates, not any of his neighbors, not his landlord, but instead one of his closest childhood friends.

 

“Becca?!” Reid asked in shock.

 

“Spencer, it’s me. Open the door…” she replied.

 

He obeyed and moved out of the doorway, allowing her to enter before closing and locking it behind them.

 

He was completely bewildered, it had been years since he’d seen her but, seeing her now there could be no mistaking it. The long black hair, the bright cerulean blue eyes framed by heavy black eye liner, and purple lipstick, she’d barely changed at all since they were in school together as kids. She dressed the same too, she wore black jeans that looked at least a size too tight, a blue crop top with a black fishnet shirt over it and a cropped black leather jacket. It was only when he looked closer that Reid noticed that her lip was cut and she had a nasty-looking black eye only partially hidden by her dark makeup. He also spotted what looked like a relatively fresh, hand-shaped bruise on her neck.

 

“Becca, what are you doing here? What happened?” he asked.

 

“Spencer, something happened. I really need your help, I can’t trust anyone else with this but I knew _you_ would understand…” Becca replied. She was pacing nervously around the living room. It sounded to Reid as though she were starting in the middle of a much bigger, longer, and mostly likely, very complex story.

 

“Becca.” He replied with a flatness and urgency in his voice that commanded her to stop. “What. Happened? How did you get hurt, who did this to you?”

 

At his words she stopped, and turned to meet his eye, upon seeing him stare at her with an all too familiar look of concern all over his face and knowing that he must have picked up on her injuries, she sighed heavily. “Spencer… This…” she began, pointing toward her face. “Is nothing. You and I both know I’ve had a lot worse… that’s not why I’m here though.”

 

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked.

 

He stood there just three feet away as he waited for her answer, watching her intently and analyzing her body language.

 

She subconsciously put her hands on her hips as if she were trying to steady herself, then crossed her arms as though trying to hold herself together. She had dropped her gaze and was now staring at the floor.

 

“You’re the only one I can trust with this. If I report it to anyone else she won’t stand a chance…” Becca finally replied, her voice cracking as she started to cry.

 

“Trust with what? Becca, I can only help you if you tell me what happened.” He reminded her.

 

“I should’ve seen this coming… oh my god…” she sobbed.

 

“Becca. What. Happened?” he asked again, taking a step closer.

 

“It’s my mom. She… Spencer…she killed my dad…” Becca cried, nearly collapsing into his arms.

 


	2. Out on a Limb for You

For a moment, it was all Spencer could do to hold her upright, wrapping her in a protective embrace. What she’d told him had left him in shock. It seemed so crazy… and yet… and _yet…_ Here she was, in his apartment, over two-thousand miles from their native Las Vegas. Here she was, a stone’s throw away from hyperventilating, his arms the only thing stopping her collapsing into a puddle of tears.

 

Finally, he realized that if he was going to get any further information out of her, he would have to calm her down. Slowly, gently, he lowered both her and himself to their knees, then grabbed her shoulders and pushed her just far enough away so that she knelt upright and they were looking each other in the eye.

 

“Becca, what do you mean?” He asked. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened ok? You can trust me, you said so yourself.” He reminded her.

 

“Mom flew off the handle, you know how she gets.” Becca reminded him. “She hit dad with a rolling pin. Dad never saw it coming.”

 

It was true, he was all too familiar with the inexplicable, unpredictable rages of Joyce Thompson and the horrifyingly violent outbursts that often accompanied them. The more he thought about it, the more the news that it had finally escalated to murder seemed less of a shock, and more of an inevitability that had finally come to pass. However, that train of thought led to a host of pressing questions.

 

“And you didn’t report it?” He asked in surprise.

 

“Of course not…and you know why… you know how the police in our old neighborhood can be, and you know how my mom is. I just lost my dad. Despite everything she’s done she’s still my mom. If I let those bastards railroad her into a first degree murder charge…. They’ll shoot for the death penalty. I can’t let that happen.” She explained. “I realize it’s a lot to ask, but you’re the only one I can trust right now…”

 

“Where is she now?” he asked.

 

“At home, locked in her room… I managed to get some meds into her, once they knocked her out I took her up to her room, restrained her so she couldn’t hurt herself and locked her in so she couldn’t escape and hurt anyone else.” She told him.

 

Reid sighed, she’d been right about something else too. He more than probably anyone else, understood the dilemmas and delicacies of trying to have a relationship with a mentally unstable parent. “How long ago was this?” he asked.

 

“About ten hours ago, once I stopped freaking out I knew I needed your help so I got myself on the next flight here…” She explained.

 

“How did you know where I lived?” he asked.

 

“Uh…you’re in the phonebook, duh…” She replied, the look on her face telling him that she was too nervous about the current situation to have her usual level of patience for his tendency to miss the obvious.

 

“Why didn’t you call me earlier instead of coming all the way here?” He asked.

 

“I was afraid you’d be at work, with your other teammates around…” She told him.

 

“Well, you’re right, I would have been but… we’re going to need their help anyway to get ahead of this.” He told her flatly, picking his cellphone up off the desk.

 

He took a deep breath He had no idea how this was going to go. This was a single murder with no issue of state lines, the Unsub was seriously mentally ill, true, but this was still not the type of case they usually handled, what’s more, it hadn’t even been reported to the local police. Still, it needed to be done, so he pushed the number for Prentiss’s speed dial and hit send.

 

…

 

Emily Prentiss was asleep on the sofa in the main living space in her one bedroom apartment when she was roused back to consciousness by the sound of her phone ringing, and buzzing loudly on the coffee table.

 

“Huh…?” Emily wondered sleepily as she picked up her phone. Her eyes ached from looking at the bright glow of the screen, fortunately she had contact photos for each member of the team that became her lock screen whenever they called. In one swoop she unlocked the phone and pushed the answer button.

 

“Emily…?” came Reid’s voice on the other end of the line. His voice sounded strained, as though he was stressed out by something, which made sense. Emily didn’t know exactly what time it was but she knew it was late enough that Reid wouldn’t be calling her without good reason.

 

“Reid… What’s wrong?” She asked.

 

“We might have a case.” He replied tentatively.

 

“What? Did I miss something? Did Garcia call you?” She asked, immediately sitting up, ready to spring into action.

 

“No. No, actually, this one came directly to me… It’s kind of a long story, but I really need your help.” he replied. “Can you meet me at the BAU?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, of course… Should I have Garcia get everybody else?” She asked.

 

“Call everybody in. I’ll meet you guys there in about an hour and explain everything when I get there…” He promised her.

 

…

 

Back in the apartment, Reid ended his call with Emily.

 

“Where are you going?” Becca asked.

 

“Back to work, and you’re coming with me, we’re going to explain to my team what happened and try to get them to take the case.” He told her. “Wait here…”

 

Reid returned twenty minutes later having taken a shower and put on fresh work clothes. Suddenly they heard a massive crash of thunder and saw the lights in the apartment flicker. He looked out the window and saw that freezing rain was coming down in sheets. He glanced back and Becca and imagined her getting soaked and frozen in what she was wearing. “Um… Becca… you didn’t happen to bring anything else with you, did you?”

 

“Please… of course I did…” She told him, opening the black leather backpack Spencer hadn’t even noticed her swinging off her shoulders onto his sofa and pulling out a neatly folded, black and white striped, water-proof trench coat and nodding toward the door where a giant black umbrella rested against the wall next to it. She put her coat on, closed and swung her bag over shoulder, grabbed her umbrella and waited for him by the door. “You coming?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, just a second…” He told her, slipping his gun into the holster strapped to his belt and grabbing his go-bag on the way out.

 


	3. Always Work As a Team

When Becca and Reid entered through the glass doors at the BAU it looked as though they were the first ones there.

 

“I thought you said there were a whole team of you guys…” she commented.

 

“There is but it looks like we’re the first ones here…” he replied, but just as he did he noticed that the light was on in Prentiss’s office. “Or maybe not… just uh… have a seat at my desk, it’s the one with all the books…”

 

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere…” She replied, plopping down in Reid’s desk chair. He had successfully calmed her down, but the longer the uncertainty about how and by whom her father’s case would be handled went on, the more uneasy she was becoming.

 

Reid climbed the stairs to the landing and knocked on Prentiss’s office door to announce his presence but didn’t wait for her to answer before coming in and closing the door behind him. He found her sitting at her desk waiting for him.

 

“Reid, have a seat…” She beckoned.

 

He did.

 

“Now…what is this about…?”

 

“Earlier, maybe a half hour before I called you, an old friend of mine, Becca who I’ve known since we were kids in Las Vegas, showed up at my apartment. She was freaking out. She told me that her mother killed her father, but instead of calling the local police she came all the way here and reported it directly to me.” He began.

 

“Why would she do that? How long ago did this happen? Where is she now?” Emily asked.

 

“About twelve hours ago according to her, she’s currently sitting at my desk in the bull pen, and as for why…” Reid paused and sighed heavily, “look… I’ve known, Becca, since we were five and seven years old, and for at least that long her mom has been severely mentally unstable. She suffers from a form of manic depressive disorder so extreme that it causes violent rages like waving a cape in front of a bull. Nothing, no rational, no other instinct or outside force can come between her and lashing out at whatever or _whoever_ set her off in that particular instance. Despite all of that and everything her mom has put Becca through because of it, she still loves her. She knew that I would understand that…”

 

“Because you’re a profiler…or…?”

 

“Most likely because of my mom… that was another reason we were friends… especially when you’re a kid… that’s not an easy thing for your peers to understand…”

 

“That’s certainly true…” Emily replied. “What do you need?”

 

“I’m not justifying what her mom has done, I just know that knowing what she’s like when gets like that, I doubt she did it what you and I would call ‘intentionally’, and I’m asking that we go to Las Vegas and figure out for ourselves whether or not that’s the case. If we don’t and hand it over to the Las Vegas PD instead, she’ll most likely end up on death row.”

 

“…And you don’t think she belongs there, that what she really should get is a one way ticket to an institution, not lethal injection…” Emily clarified.

 

“Basically yeah…” Reid answered.

 

“Spencer… I haven’t even looked at the case yet and I’m inclined to agree with you but, you know that, that’s not something we get to decide. That’s what gets nailed out in court later on…”

 

“I know that but… the local police won’t take her psychopathology into account when charging her or testifying against her in court. They’ll just say ‘she’s nuts so of course she’s guilty’ and that’s as far as they’ll even look and they’ll ask for the worst. For Becca’s sake I can’t let that happen. That’s why I need your help.”

 

“Alright listen, it’s only eleven-thirty in Las Vegas, I will call them and see what we can do about making this a BAU case… give me your friend’s and her mother’s full names, go get her and wait for me and the others in the conference room ok?” Emily asked.

 

“Ok…” Reid nodded in agreement. “And thank you Emily…”

 

She smiled back at him, grateful for the confidence he seemed to have in her.

 

“Thank me when I get them to let us take the case…” She told him.

 

He nodded. Then he stepped outside of Emily’s office just as she was dialing the phone number for the Las Vegas PD, and motioned for Becca to follow him. Once he was sure that she was behind him. He led her to the conference room.

 

“My boss said we can wait in here…”

 

“Wait for what?” Becca asked.

 

“Wait for her to talk to the Las Vegas Police to try to get them to let my team take control of this case. Normally we have to be invited in. We can’t just waltz in and take over cases from the locals. It doesn’t work that way.” He explained.

 

“I didn’t know that…do you…think they’ll let you?” She asked.

 

“It’s hard to say, knowing Emily she’ll get them to whether they like it or not but, it’s hard to say how much resistance we’re going to hit when we get there…” he replied.

 

“I’m sorry…” she told him sullenly, staring down at the table and not meeting his eye.

 

“For what?” he asked.

 

“For dumping this on you. I didn’t realize how much trouble this would cause. I just…I freaked…”

 

“Of course you did…” he told her, making a point to sound unfazed as he sat down beside her. “Any normal person in your situation would have. We’ll figure this out. I promise…”

 

…

 

The rest of the BAU arrived almost as soon as Prentiss got off the phone with the detectives in Las Vegas. She met them in the hallway outside the BAU.

 

“Emily, what’s going on?” Garcia asked.

 

“Where are we off to now?” JJ asked.

 

“Las Vegas but this case is a complicated one. About two hours ago, a witness came forward but she didn’t go to the local police, she brought the case directly to Reid. She’s an old friend of his, the victim is her father and according to her, her Mother is our Unsub. When she told him, Reid called me and asked us to help him with this, at that point I called Garcia and had her call everyone in. I know this case is an unusual one but Reid seems determined to help this friend of his. I can’t explain it but it’s obvious she’s important to him. You guys in?

 

“Of course…” JJ replied.

 

“Let’s do this.” Tara answered.

 

“Damn Straight.” Rossi added.

 

“When do we start?” Alvez asked.

 

“I called the detectives in Las Vegas, they brought the mother in, and sealed off the crime scene but they are letting us take the lead on the case. We have to determine what exactly happened and why it occurred. Right now there aren’t any vials so I’ll grab Reid and our witness and we’ll figure it out when we get there. Wheels up in thirty…” Emily replied before heading back toward the conference room.

 

…

 

She found Reid and Becca sitting in the conference room in silence. Becca was facing the window, staring off into the distance. She seemed nervous and far off, as though her mind was somewhere else, perhaps even in a different time. Reid was eyeing her in that concerned, puppy-dog way of his, like he wanted to make everything that was going on disappear but knew that wasn’t possible.

 

“Guys…” Emily called, breaking the silence and getting their attention.

 

They turned their heads and chairs toward her almost perfectly in sync with each other.

 

“I talked to the detectives in Las Vegas, since we learned about the case first and they have plenty on their plates they just invited us in… and the rest of the team got here a few minutes ago. Wheels up in twenty…Ms. Thompson you’re coming with us…” She told them.


	4. Ghosts of Things Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While traveling to Las Vegas with the Team, Becca recalls a memory from her extremely dysfunctional childhood.

Chapter 4: Ghosts of Things Past

 

On the plane on the way to Las Vegas, Becca sat in the corner and watched and listened while they discussed the case. Since there were no files on it yet, they didn’t have much to go on beyond what she had told Spencer. The more they talked the more she thought back to the events throughout her life that had led up to where she now found herself. The first of which was the day she’d first met Spencer.

 

_June 1987_

 

_She was seven years old the first time she’d seen just how dangerous her mother’s rages could be, she’d known long before that, that her mother wasn’t quite right, but up until then her father had always protected her from the worst of it, until one fateful afternoon when he was getting ready to open the restaurant downstairs. Becca was laying on her belly on the wood floor of her family’s living room, painting a picture for her afterschool art class when her mother came down the stairs from her room on the third floor. When she saw Becca laying there painting, she kicked the trays of watercolor paints and sent them flying against the wall behind her._

_“Mama what are you doing?” Becca cried._

_“What do you think you’re doing? You’ve spilled your paints all over the rug!” She snapped._

_Becca turned her red to look, sure enough, the crème colored area rug behind her was now splattered with greed, red, yellow, and sky blue paint, and the paint was also dripping down the wood paneling under the window._

_“Mamma, I didn’t do that!” Becca replied._

_“Yes you did! Don’t you dare lie to me girly!” Her mother yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her in midair. Her grip was so tight that it made Becca’s arms go numb in just the few minutes she was held there. The little girl’s heart hammered in her chest, every instinct, every fiber of her being said to run but she couldn’t get away. Her mother’s grip was too strong, and her feet weren’t touching the ground. She had no where to go and no place to hide. She shrunk back in fear, she shut her eyes tightly as her mother glared down at her with a crazed look in her eyes._

_“Please let me go Mamma, you’re scaring me…” Becca pleaded, but this only seemed to anger her more._

_“You little Bitch! Open your eyes!” Her mother demanded, slapping her daughter across the face. “How in the world did I raise such a coward?” She asked, throwing Becca against the wall._

_Her mother walked over and stood over her, glaring at her, daring her to speak up again. She then grabbed her daughter by the hair, pulling so hard that half of it came out of her black pigtails. Then without warning and for no intelligible reason, she simply dropped her, causing the little girl to fall flat on her stomach on the hard wooden floor, her chin and knees hitting the ground first._

_Instinct told her to stay down until her mom either left or came to her senses. Only when she heard the hollow thuds of her mother’s footsteps on the old wooden staircase did she dare to get up. When she got up she realized that her tights were ripped and her black corduroy jumper had paint all down the front of it._

_She sighed, rose to her feet, and brought her tray of paints, which had been rendered useless, over to the sink so she could rinse it out and recycle it. Then she grabbed a pencil from the pencil jar on the counter, went over to the kitchen table, crawled up into a dining chair, and wrote a note to her parents on the notepad they used for their shopping lists. The note read:_

_Going for a walk. Back by dinner. Love Rebecca._

_As she set down the pencil she had used, she once again heard her mother’s footsteps on the staircase. Becca didn’t really know what to do or think, and she had no idea which version of her mother she would get this time, but she wasn’t prepared to stick around long enough to find out. Before her mother had the chance to come into view, she raced down the stairs to her family’s restaurant. With her father, busy in the kitchen, it was easy for her to sneak out the front door. The sizzling from the fryers was so loud that he didn’t even hear the ball above the door ring as she left._

_She ran and ran, where she went didn’t matter so much as getting away, away from her house, away from her mother… she couldn’t deal with it, she couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened. Her mother had never acted like that before, not toward her at least._

_She kept going, as fast as her legs would carry her. She kept running long after her legs began to feel like jello and her sides ached begging her to stop. After a while she had almost completely stopped looking where she was going. That’s when she ran right smack into a little boy who looked to be a couple of years younger than she was. The impact sent them both falling backward onto the sidewalk. The little boy had dark hair and glasses with thick, black frames, which now sat askew on his head._

_“Ow…” he said as he straightened his glasses. “Where’d you come from?” The little boy asked._

_“I’m sorry…” Becca replied. “I didn’t see you… are you ok?”_

_“Yeah… what’s your hurry?” He asked._

_“I had to get out of there…”_

_“Out of where?” He asked. The little boy gave her a questioning look, but when he saw the paint on her clothes and the rips in her tights, his eyes went wide in stunned surprise. “Are you ok?” he asked._

_“I’m fine…” she replied, but he looked unconvinced._

_“Are you sure?” he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned about her._

_She nodded. “I just…really don’t wanna go home right now.” She told him, silently begging him not to make her tell him what happened._

_“Do you wanna go to the park with me for a while?” He asked._

_She was surprised, shocked that he wanted anything to do with her when he clearly knew that there was more going on that she was willing to share. This boy was different than anyone else she’d ever met. Usually when she snuck out of the house to get away from her parents no one wanted anything to do with her, they avoided her. If they tried to help at all, they tried to interrogate her. Instead, he seemed to accept her silence, almost as though he understood what she was going through. Instead of passing her by or trying to get her to implicate her parents in some horrible injustice, he’d offered her company, and continued, albeit temporary, refuge from the turmoil she lived with._

_“Y-yeah…yeah let’s go…” She replied._

_He smiled at her, and the two children started walking down the sidewalk toward the park that sat almost directly between their homes._

Present Day:

 

The two of them had been friends since that day, only later had Becca realized the extent to which Spencer _did_ understand what her dysfunctional home life was like. She sat there silently in her little corner of the jet, consumed by her memories, until Spencer’s voice yanked her back to the present.

 

“Becca…?” he asked.

 

She looked up to see him and a few of the other agents staring at her with concerned looks on their faces.

 

“Hm?” she asked.

 

“Are you ok?” Spencer asked.

 

“Don’t worry about it, I just got lost in thought is all.” She replied. “Why? What did I miss? Becca asked.

 

“We asked you if you know why your mother would have done this, what specifically triggered it…” Emily explained.

 

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t, when we’re dealing with my mom it could be anything. She gets angry over the most benign stuff. It’s usually pretty clear what she’s mad at, but it’s almost never clear why. I heard them arguing, then I heard a loud crash. When I came downstairs, Dad was on the floor in a pool of blood coming from his head, and mom was standing over him, panting like she’d just run a mile. She was holding a rolling pin and there was blood dripping from the other end. I didn’t hear what the fight was about this time.”

 

“But wait… I thought you said that you heard the argument…” Alvez replied.

 

“I heard their voices but I couldn’t hear what was being said.” She clarified.

 

Alvez nodded. It was then that Garcia appeared on the monitor built into the wall.

 

“Good evening, well technically good super early morning my family and our guest. I just got the low down on the Thompsons. Please feel free to follow along on your handhelds. Joyce and Gerald Thompson were married in April of 1976, later that same year, Gerald inherited the family business, which is a small restaurant that appears to be something between a small town diner and a pizzeria. In 1977 they moved into the residential apartment that occupies the second and third floors of the building. They have one daughter, Rebecca, born December 7th 1979\. It wasn’t until the summer of 1981, when Joyce suddenly ‘recovered’ from what doctors assumed was postpartum depression and went into a state of mania that she was formally diagnosed with severe bi polar disorder, despite the fact that she had a documented history of severe mood swings, anger management issues, and erratic behavior dating back to early adolescence. She’s been in and out of various treatments and therapies ever since. I have scads of reports of her making threats and throwing the heaviest thing she can get her hands on against the nearest wall… but in terms of physical violence against people there’s not much, although I have yet to touch base with social services. I will keep digging and I will hit you back.” She told them before disappearing off the screen.

 

“Alright, we’ll be landing soon. Reid, you, JJ, and Rossi take Becca to the police station, interview Mrs. Thompson when you get there. Tara, Alvez and I will head over to the crime scene.” Emily ordered.

 

 

 


	5. Mama Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU arrives in Las Vegas and begins their investigation. Tensions rise between the team and a flippant local detective.

Chapter 5: Mamma Dearest

 

When Prentiss, Tara, and Alvez arrived at Gerry’s Family Restaurant, it was taped off with crime scene tape. It was a three story, dark gray brick building sticking out in the middle of the desert landscape. It was situated just outside of a nearby residential neighborhood.

 

The three agents lifted the crime scene tape and entered the building, the bell above the door ringing as they opened it. The inside of the first floor was the restaurant. The front was a collection of small square tables with larger booths with burgundy velvet upholstery covering the benches against the walls. There was a relatively large bar area with dark-stained butcher-block countertop and ten barstools. Off to the side, there was a door which the agents found led back to two other doors, one to the right and one directly in front of them. The door to the right led to the kitchen which was, according to their witness, the crime scene. The door directly in front of them, they assumed led to the family’s personal living space, which they would check as soon as they were done with the crime scene itself.

 

The kitchen was not large, it was a long, narrow room, most of the depth of which was taken up by the industrial fridge, stove, warmers, and deep fryers, along with two farmhouse sinks. All the appliances were stainless steel, they, along with the white walls and plain bluish gray tile floor gave the room, a cold, detached feel to it. On the floor they found a pool of dried blood, along with a rolling pin which had the tip broken off on one end, what was left of that same end was covered in blood. They also noticed that there was blood on the edge of the stove.

 

“Ok, so the Unsub blitzed the victim here with the rolling pin. He falls forward and hits his head on the stove…” Prentiss theorized.

 

“Was the stove on when he fell do you think?” Alvez asked.

 

“Well based on the witness statement, this would have happened an hour or two before the dinner rush so I say probably…” Tara pointed out.

 

…

 

Meanwhile, when Reid, Rossi, JJ, and Becca arrived at the police station in Las Vegas. As they entered the station, as the unofficial second in command, Rossi came in at the front of the pack, with JJ, Reid, and Becca following him. Becca stayed very close to Reid, as she had since they got off the plane. JJ and Rossi had also noticed that Reid’s body language had shifted. Reid was staying as close as she wanted her to, he was acting like a protector type.

 

They were greeted by the lead detective, who immediately keyed in on Becca as the only one who wasn’t dressed like an agent or wearing a firearm. Despite the fact that Rossi and JJ were in front of them, Reid inserted himself between Becca and the detective, as though he were using his own body as a shield.

 

“Hello, I’m Detective Marboro, Las Vegas PD.” He told them, shaking Rossi’s hand. He was a tall, African American, with receding white hair and a face wrinkled and weathered by the Las Vegas sun. He was probably in his mid-to-late sixties, but he looked closer to eighty. Unlike some men, this hadn’t softened his appearance or demeanor. His face was like stone, his beady brown eyes were cold and uncompromising.

 

“Nice to meet you, Detective. I’m SSA David Rossi, these are SSAs Jennifer Jareau and Dr. Spencer Reid. Behind him, we have the victim’s daughter, Rebecca Thompson.” Rossi explained.

 

“I see, well, Mrs. Thompson is in holding, we haven’t officially charged her yet but everything we’ve discovered so far says she did it.” The detective replied.

 

“Well, we’re not _just_ interested in whether or not she did it, we also need to understand why.” JJ clarified. “I’ll talk to her, is there an interview room I can use, detective?” She asked.

 

“O-of course… I’ll have her moved to interrogation…” The detective replied. Then his voice changed, and his gazed once again settled on Becca. “If I were you all, I’d interview this one too. Who knows, maybe it’s her and she’s pinning it on her mother to cover it up. ”

 

“Take that back, right now.” Reid snapped. His voice instantly sharp and cold, and he’d taken a large step forward so that he now stood next to and in front of Rossi. The others looked back at him in surprise, Reid was never like this. He wasn’t generally an easy person to anger, and even when he _was_ angry, it was usually cool, semi-calm and shown through passive aggressive insults and snide comments, not by an outburst like this.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Rossi said, though it was unclear if it were meant for the detective, Reid, or both. “Detective, this isn’t your case. You told our unit chief on the phone that you didn’t want to ‘deal with this’ so now we are. Unless you want to be charged with harassment you’ll leave Miss Thompson alone.”

 

The detective then turned and glared at Rossi. “Fine…suite yourselves. I’ll say nothing more. The conference room is right over there. Case boards with what little we have so far are waiting for you” He replied, nodding to a room off to their right before walking off.

 

It was only then that Reid started to relax and reclaimed his place at Becca’s side.

 

“What an asshole…” she breathed. Her voice was almost inaudible as she said it. Reid was pretty sure he was the only one who’d heard it. He responded with a small, subtle, almost undetectable nod in agreement, he too, had dealt with this detective before; and while he’d have used a more clinical term, he couldn’t deny the accuracy of her assessment.

 

…

 

Back at the restaurant building, the rest of the team had moved on to the Thompson family’s personal space, on the second and third floors of the building. It was dark, there simply wasn’t much in the way of natural light coming in, there hadn’t been downstairs either. Just like the rest of the building, the apartment was old but well maintained. The wallpaper, hardwood floors, and furniture were all antiques but in surprisingly good shape. The only exception to this, was the door to one of the bedrooms, which was kicked off its hinges.

 

“Guys… I think I found something.” Prentiss called, as she stepped into the room. The room was sparsely furnished, there was a four-poster, queen-sized bed sitting against the wall opposite the door, in the middle of the room. The pink paisley comforter was mostly off the bed, with only a corner tucked between the mattress and the footboard still hanging on. There were a few other strange things about the bed. The frame and posts were made of metal, not wooden like the framing of the rest of the furniture in the house. They were also rounded. When Emily looked at the two nightstands on either side, while they were made of dark hardwood, the edges and corners were childproofed with rubber attachments. The same was true of the dresser, it was solid oak with a dark stain but the corners and all the sharp edges had rubber padding stuck glued on to them. That’s when Prentiss noticed something else that she found more than a little weird, all the furniture was bolted to the floor.

 

“What do we have here?” Tara asked as she came in and looked around.

 

“This room has been child-proofed, even the outlets are covered…” Prentiss replied, pointing to the wall where there was a set of outlets with plastic covers of them.

 

“But that doesn’t make any sense, I mean… Becca’s an only child and she’s two years older than Reid.” Tara replied.

 

“I don’t think this is Becca’s room. I mean, she’s goth and the bed in here is about as pastel and girly as it gets. If this was her room she’d have replaced that comforter a long time ago.”

 

“So who’s room is this then?” Tara asked.

 

“I think it’s her parents’ room… or at least her mother’s. This room isn’t childproofed because a little kid leaves here, it’s childproofed to keep an emotionally and mentally unstable adult safe from themselves. That also explains the door, when there are no other signs of forced entry, Becca told Reid that she locked her mother in her room to keep her safe while she went to get help. The police probably had to break it down to bring her in.” Emily realized.

 

…

 

Back at the station, Becca and Reid stood in the observation room just outside of the interrogation room where Mrs. Thompson was being held. They’d agreed that Rossi would talk to her, Reid would observe the interview, and JJ would talk to Becca in another room while that was going on. Still, Becca wanted to see her first, not talk to her, just see her, watch her, try to sort out if anything had changed. She wanted to know if, now that she was relatively calm, she would feel different about her mother than she had before, knowing what her mother had done. She thought that seeing her would sort that out, but it didn’t, she still had no idea how she felt or how she should feel.

 

Joyce Thompson looked a lot like her daughter, she had the same black hair and blue eyes. She was big-boned but not overweight for her body structure, sitting there in interrogation she didn’t look like someone who had just killed her husband, she looked scared and freaked out. She couldn’t sit still, she twitched and fidgeted, her head swiveled in every direction and her eyes darted around the room as though she were trying to remember how she got there.

 

“That’s her.” Becca told no one in particular, since the only person within earshot already knew who it was. “That’s Mama.”


End file.
